-Mess

Being a surgeon, even a mediocre one, was among the most exhausting jobs in existence. Being a renowned surgeon, therefore, was exhausting on a level that not even ten consecutive training sessions of Shuutoku and Teikou combined could reach.
Midorima Shintarou, consequently, was drained. Three heart surgeries, one after the other, each lasting around six hours. Honestly? He just wanted to go home, take a burning shower, eat something while listening to the reassuring chatter of his boyfriends, and then crawl into bed to die a little for at least the next ten hours.
What he didn’t expect was that, upon opening the door to his apartment—which led directly into the living room—he would be met with a clear view of Aomine sprawled on the couch, legs wide apart and head resting on the backrest.
His gaze lowered. Kuroko was between Daiki’s legs, his mouth wrapped entirely around the other’s erection, down to the base.
As always, the practical side of Shintarou’s brain wondered how someone as small as Kuroko managed to do it. Between them, Daiki was... the most "endowed," so it was always surprising to see someone as petite as Kuroko effortlessly take something so large into his mouth.
The wet, rhythmic sound of Tetsuya’s lips filled Shintarou’s ears, almost drowning out the muffled groan that escaped Aomine’s lips.
It was hypnotic.
Kuroko moved with unnatural precision, his hands firmly gripping the other’s thighs, his face descending in slow, deliberate motions that seemed to push Aomine into a state of absolute ecstasy.
Midorima felt his breath catch in his throat, and he could only swallow dryly, his mouth suddenly parched. He noticed his pants growing uncomfortably tight, though he couldn’t have said whether it was because of Daiki’s face, contorted in a mask of pure pleasure, or Tetsuya’s lips—swollen and glistening—gliding up and down the entire length.
Aomine’s fingers tangled in the smaller man’s hair, but the rhythm was clearly set by Kuroko. That was typical of him: calm, collected, yet in control with an authority that left no room for doubt.
They were so absorbed in the act that they didn’t notice Shintarou’s presence until he summoned the mental strength to shut the front door.
At the faint thud, Tetsuya’s eyes darted in his direction.
After a brief moment of hesitation, Kuroko parted from Daiki with a soft pop, causing a groan of protest from the latter, whose body trembled in frustration.
«Welcome home, Shintarou-kun,» Kuroko greeted him. Despite the situation, the blue of his eyes was calm, almost innocent, as though he had been caught in the middle of a casual conversation and not while he had Daiki down his throat. Then again, Midorima knew just how utterly shameless the youngest of his boyfriends could be. «We thought you’d be home later,» Tetsuya added, glancing down just enough to notice the bulge in the surgeon’s pants.
At the sight, he couldn’t suppress a satisfied smirk, one that deepened the flush already warming Midorima’s cheeks.
Shintarou cleared his throat, trying to mask his embarrassment by adjusting his glasses. «You should at least try to maintain a little of decorum,» he managed to say, his voice higher-pitched than he had hoped.
«You can join us if you want,» Aomine suggested, his voice rough and brimming with provocative confidence. He tilted his head back, a grin revealing just how much he was enjoying himself.
Midorima averted his gaze, feeling heat burn his face. «No, thank you. I’m tired.» The words tumbled out hastily, almost like a stammer, before he fled toward their massive bedroom.
Kuroko watched him disappear, then turned to Aomine. The two exchanged a knowing look before chuckling.
«Do you think we should’ve warned him to avoid the bedroom?»
A grin spread across Daiki’s lips. «Nah.»

[…]

Midorima shut the bedroom door behind him with a swift motion, leaning against it and closing his eyes. His breathing was still uneven, and his heart pounded in his chest, stubbornly refusing to settle.
Why did this have to happen tonight? he wondered, running a hand through his hair and letting out a long sigh. What he’d witnessed in the living room had been more than enough to test his limits, but at least there, he could have pretended it hadn’t bothered him in the slightest.
When he finally opened his eyes, though, he realized the bedroom was far from a safe haven.
On the bed were three figures, seemingly oblivious to his presence.
Kise lay on his back, his blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, legs pulled up and held at the ankles by his hands, in a position that Ryouta’s incredible flexibility made look effortless. In front of him, Murasakibara penetrated him with his large fingers, his perfectly sculpted body glistening slightly in the dim light of the room. Every movement of the larger man was accompanied by a soft moan from Kise that seemed to vibrate in the air.
And then there was Akashi.
Sitting beside them, his head tilted slightly, he watched the scene with a calmness that was both serious and profoundly authoritative.
His gaze remained fixed on Kise, while his hand slid along Atsushi’s back, caressing it with deliberate control, as though guiding his movements without needing to say a word.
Midorima stood frozen, paralyzed by the sight. For a moment, he seriously considered leaving the room and sleeping on the couch. But then he remembered the couch was no longer a safe option.
It was Akashi who noticed him first, his sharp gaze shifting toward him. A small, satisfied smile curved his lips, and the blush on Midorima’s cheeks grew even deeper.
«Welcome back, Shintarou,» Akashi said in that calm, authoritative voice that left no room for argument. «I trust you had a productive day.»
«I…» Midorima stammered, suddenly feeling trapped. He forced himself to look at the wall beyond the scene, desperately trying to ignore Kise’s muffled moans and the sly glance Murasakibara sent him from beneath his heavy lashes.
«You seem a bit tense,» Akashi continued, rising slowly from the bed and approaching Midorima with an almost predatory grace. «It’s not good for you to bottle up so much stress.»
«I’m fine,» Midorima replied, his voice too high-pitched to be convincing. He took a step back, only to find his shoulders pressed against the door.
«Oh, of course,» Akashi murmured, sardonic, moving close enough to brush the back of his hand against Shintarou’s face in a gesture both gentle and commanding. «Yet your body tells a very different story,» he added, his smile widening as he nodded toward Midorima’s arousal, straining against his pants.
Midorima swallowed dryly, feeling his throat go parched again. The heat in the room seemed to intensify, his breath catching as he searched desperately for an escape. But then Kise turned to him, a languid smile curving his beautiful, inviting lips.
«Shincchi, don’t be so stiff,» he said, his voice husky and broken with pleasure. «Come relax with us.»
Murasakibara lazily nodded, adding another finger to the two already moving inside Ryouta, who responded with a sharp moan. «Mnn, yeah, Tarou-chin. It’s no fun if one of us is all tense.»
Akashi tilted his head, his red eyes gleaming. «See, Shintarou? It would be rude to decline such a generous invitation.»
Midorima felt heat rush to his face, desire and embarrassment swirling into a chaotic storm that threatened to overwhelm him.
He had no idea how he would get out of this situation. And, to be completely honest, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. But one thing was certain: the rest he had longed for seemed further away than ever.